Dilfer Turns A Tragedy Into Inspiration For 40 days, his hero fought. Trent Dilfer loves talking about ``Camp Trev'' - family and friends who bivouacked at Stanford University's Lucile Packard Children's Hospital, gathered and prayed around a special light. ``I know all parents say this, but this 5-year-old, he was so great with people,'' Dilfer said by telephone. ``He just loved people. He was so forgiving. With his three sisters, he was the peacemaker, in the whole family he was. He was just an amazing little boy.'' And as a rare disease ravaged his heart, Trevin Dilfer, Trent Dilfer's only son, showed everyone. ``They didn't think he'd make it on life support to Stanford, and he made it,'' Trevin's dad said. ``They didn't think he'd make it through the first change of machines, and he made it. They didn't think he'd make it two weeks, and he made it. Forty days. He kept defying the odds.'' The end, so peaceful, came April 27, 2003. The Dilfers wiped their tears; Trev went home to be with the Lord. A few months later, just before another NFL training camp, Trent Dilfer wondered what the point was. He wanted to retire. His wife, Cassandra, told him what the point was. ``God made you a football player,'' Cass said. Trent Dilfer returned to Tampa last weekend. His Seattle Seahawks met his first NFL team. Dilfer has never played against the Bucs. He backs up Seattle starter Matt Hasselbeck. ``I haven't thought about the Bucs very much,'' Dilfer said. ``There aren't many people there who were there when I was. It hasn't been that big a deal.'' This return wa slightly more sublime than Dilfer's first visit to Raymond James Stadium after being released by the Bucs after the 1999 season. You might remember it. On a January night in 2001, Dilfer was the Super Bowl champion quarterback of the Baltimore Ravens. A fairy tale come true. Only there was no happily ever after. ``It seems a long time ago,'' Dilfer said. ``An eternity. So much has happened in my life since then.'' Seattle is on the rise. Dilfer works well with Hasselbeck, his close friend and fellow baldy. They help each other. With Trev gone, with Trent wavering, Hasselbeck echoed Cass. You're a football player, he told Dilfer, we need you. ``I've tried not to let my circumstances dictate my attitude,'' Dilfer said. ``I focus on having a good attitude. It rips my heart out not to play. But I don't want to be a reason why my team doesn't win. I want to be a reason it does. Maybe not the most glamorous reason, or the biggest, but a reason.'' Rarely has a football life been so mixed with triumph and heartache. Released by the Bucs two years after making the Pro Bowl. Released by the Ravens before the Super Bowl rings were delivered. A ruptured Achilles' tendon obliterated Dilfer's 2002 just as he was taking charge in Seattle. ``I told Matt yesterday that I wouldn't change a thing in my career,'' Dilfer said. ``I'm so thankful for the character I have after all my ups and downs.'' He threw only four passes last season but turned tragedy into inspiration. His teammates awarded Dilfer the Steve Largent Award, for the player who ``best exemplifies the spirit, dedication and integrity of the Seahawks.'' The season Trent Dilfer hadn't wanted to play became one he didn't want to end. ``When you go through the deepest of pain, the deepest of losses, it makes it so much more clear what you have.'' The traffic never slowed at the hospital. Nor did the love. Seahawks were everywhere. One morning, Dilfer left Trev's room only to find former Bucs teammate Brad Culpepper in the hall. John and Linda Lynch camped out. So many of Dilfer's former coaches and teammates got in touch. They all spoke of Trevin - ``Little T.D.'' - racing around in his father's jersey. ``He loved watching my games,'' Trent said. Trev's courage still towers over big, strong football men. ``The people who were there with my son, every one of them is a changed person,'' Dilfer said. ``No one is the same. All from what they saw in this 5-year-old kid.'' The voice broke. ``He kept fighting. And though he couldn't communicate with us verbally, and he was so sedated, he could squeeze our hands and blink his eyes. He was never scared. He was never sad. That was my boy.'' Two thousand people celebrated Trevin Dilfer's life at Fresno's People's Church. The TD 4 Him Foundation still raises funds for cancer and heart research. To contribute, call (408) 829-3381. Trent, Cass and their girls, Madeleine, Victoria and Delaney, talk with Trev all the time. ``He's still very much alive,'' Trent said. ``Every time we pray as a family, we ask the Lord to give him a hug and a kiss for us.'' Trent Dilfer was back here Sunday, back in Tampa, ready to do anything to help his team win. He has no choice. You see, he's a football player. And his little boy loves watching Daddy's games. Martin Fennelly The Tampa Tribune , 21 September 2004